Secondary Solutions: A BIC Collection
by J. Maria
Summary: Scenarios in which secondary Buffyverse characters meet & interact with secondary Potterverse characters. A Birthday Insanity Challenge Collection.
1. Nineteen's Legal in Canada: 21 for 21

Title: Nineteen's Lega. . .lIn Canada  
Series: 21 for 21  
Author: jmaria  
Rating: PG  
Disclaimer: Joss owns Anya, J.K. owns the others.  
Pairing: Anya, Millicent Bulstrode/?  
Three: duck, gooseflesh, bookends  
Word Count: 1,038  
Summary: What do you mean Im in the wrong country? Just give me a fricken beer!  
Notes: So, I had to remove the original chapter 19 in _21 for 21_ (at TtH) due to the fandom. This is my sad attempt to make the collection even with a new chapter 19. Enjoy.  
Set: Season 4ish.  
Count: 19/21 (revised)

__

Nineteen's Legal. . .In Canada

"Are you telling me that I cannot purchase _any_ alcoholic beverage _at all_?" the dark haired woman narrowed her eyes at the bartender. "I'm legal!"

"Yeah, _in Canada_, not in America," the bartender snorted.

"Its the same bloody continent!" she growled.

"Not the same country," he shook his head and turned away from her to help the other patrons at the bar.

"Bloody, buggering tool -"

"I feel your pain," a curly haired blonde nursed her soda. "Stupid bartender, being all uppity about the stupid legal drinking age! I'm twelve hundred years old, dipshit!"

"You were in the same grade as my kid sister, Anya," the bartender shouted back.

"If I had my powers!" Anya shook her fist at him.

"Powers?" the brunette woman frowned at her.

"I was a vengeance demon. Patron saint of scorned women," Anya sighed. "Until _someone_ wished a slayer to never come to Sunnydale, and her damned Scoobies _still_ saved the day and broke my fricken power source. Now I'm cursed to spend my life being all - human."

The teenager shuddered, which only made the brunette's brows to quirk up. Everyone else seemed to be ignoring the pair of them.

"So, what are you?" Anya wheeled back to her, which threw the brunette for a minute.

"A girl," she snapped, clearly annoyed with the ex-demon.

"No, I get that you're female, and I'm not hitting on you. _What_ are you, British underage female?"

"I've been of age since I turned 17, your bloody country is just backwards," she huffed.

"Not demon, so you must be a witch. Wand or free-form?" Anya asked again.

"Wand," the witch answered without really thinking first. "Bloody hell!"

"Bulstrode! What in Godric's name are you doing _here_? I gave you explicit instructions _not to leave_ the hotel!" a tall, red-haired man shoved in next to her.

"And I would have actually listened had I not been stuck in the same room as your brother, listening to him talk dirty on that blasted Muggle device to his girlfriend," Millicent snapped, rounding on him. "Now, since I'm obviously _not _getting anything_ else _to take the edge off, order me a blasted beer as compensation, Percy!"

"W-what?" Percy Weasley stuttered, taken aback by Millicent's revelation of Ron's activities and her own fracturing self-control. In the three weeks he'd been training both Ron and Millicent in covert espionage for their Auror training, she'd never been even slightly disrespectful.

"Order. Me. A. Bloody. Beer," Millicent tugged him face level. "Now."

"Me too!" Anya smiled brightly up at them.

"And one for my twelve hundred year old ex-demon mate," Millicent added, releasing his collar.

"What can I get ya, dude?" the bartender asked, having missed Millicent's outburst in the roaring din of the club.

"Three beers," Percy pulled his eyes from Millicent's determined and frustrated face.

He tried desperately to ignore the rising gooseflesh on the back of his neck at her commanding voice. It would not do to have him be sexually stimulated by his student. No matter how big of a turn-on it was for him.

Percy ignored Anya's little clap of glee as the bartender turned away to fill their order. Millicent quickly led the blonde away to a private booth out of the line of sight to the bar. The bartender made a deep sighing noise as he handed the beers to Percy.

"Dude, I _did not_ sell you these beers so you could hook up with two nineteen year olds, you hear me?" the bartender said quietly. "And _don't_ let anyone see them drinkin' or it's my ass on the line."

"I assure you, the dark-haired one is legal," Percy frowned. They'd all had Firewhiskey the night they'd been given their orders, after all. And Tom at the Leaky Cauldron hadn't even batted an eyelash over serving Ron and Millicent.

"Dude, in _Canada_ she's legal, not here!" the bartender turned away from him. "Fuckin' foreigners."

Percy took the drinks over to their table, his mind busy with the thoughts the bartender had put there. It had not been his intention to come to this club and intoxicate his trainee. And yet here he was, buying her liquor because his brother was apparently participating in phone sex or something like it.

"I'm not sure I should be giving you these," Percy said quietly, sitting across from them. "The bartender informed me of the discrepancy between our two countries' legal drinking age. And that of Canada's, but I'm not quite sure why."

"Oh, don't be such a duck, Prissy," Anya giggled, taking a deep swig of her beer.

"It's goose," Millicent corrected.

"And it's Percy, not prissy," Percys cheeks flamed brightly.

"Hmm, can't tell the difference," Anya smiled, ignoring his first comment. "So what brings two wizards and a witch to Sunnydale?"

"Apparently, the End of Days," Millicent shrugged.

"Miss Bulstrode!"

"Another one? This damn town has one _every_ May!"

* * *

Percy groaned as his head slammed against the headboard bolted into the wall of his hotel room. He didn't remember even leaving the Bronze last night. The mattress dipped on either side of him, jarring his eyes open. Not that he could see much. Where the hell were his glasses?

"Morgana's left teat, why do I have someone's buggering spectacles tangled in my hair?" Millicent's voice had him scrambling upright.

"Ugh, use your indoor voice. It's been too damn long since I've gotten _this_ drunk!" Anya groaned from beside him. "And Prissy's glasses are stuck in your hair from all the wild monkey sex you two had!"

"Percy, have you seen - bloody hell!"

Percy groaned as his brother barged into his room via the connecting door without knocking - _again_. His spine stiffened at his brother's next words.

"And how'd you get two naked bookends on either side of you?"

"Leave the room, Ron."

"Bloody hell, is that _Bulstrode_?" Ron gasped.

"Get. Out. Ronald!" Percy snapped.

"And technically, only Milli is naked!" Anya pouted. "He got me too liquored up to stay conscious!"

"Fuck!" Percy threw his head in his hands.

"Apparently, we already did," Millicent sighed, feeling better than she had in _days_. She handed Percy his glasses back. "Wanna go again, sans liquor this time, _teach_?"


	2. RedHeaded Stepchild: 23 for 23

Series: 23 for 23  
Title: Sixteen: Red-Headed Stepchild  
Author: Jmaria  
Rating: FR-15  
Disclaimer: I own the World Walker, Joss Whedon owns BtVS, JK owns HP.  
Spoilers: HBP and the series.  
Series Summary: Twenty-three stories and crossings of worlds (read: insanity) to celebrate twenty-three years.  
Part Summary: You get used to it, being treated like the red-headed stepchild.  
Words: 914  
A/N: First quote comes from the fourth into, second comes from _Forever Yours_ by Nightwish. My oldest sister used to say that she was going to 'beat' me and our middle sister like red-headed stepchildren when we were little. (Okay, so we _might_ have gotten into her make-up, jewelry or cassette - yes, _cassette - _collection. But we were 12 and six, and she was 18. She had cooler stuff. And I just rambled on while trying to explain the title. Ye gods.)  
Also? Went completely pear-shaped from where I had it going. Damnit. I still _like_ it though.

Dedication: To nsahdmdto for the fandoms and prompt.

**__**

23 for 23

  
_Sixteen: Red-Headed Stepchild___

The World shifted slightly to the left and it had nothing to do with the copious amount of liquor involved at all.

Whatever walks in my heart, will walk alone.

* * *

The Order of the Phoenix was fractured with the death of Albus Dumbledore, but then, so was most of the Wizarding world at the news of his death. Fudge was long gone, but Scrimgeour, like his predecessor knew how to use his assets. And like Fudge, he also overlooked the fact that Percy Weasley's defection from his family was an act. He'd been using his connections as an undersecretary to the Minister to gain connections to the Watchers Council. Because war was in the air, and with the death of Dumbledore, it was going to be a feeding frenzy.

Percy kept his head low as he slipped through the alleyways of Muggle London. He was supposed to have met his contact with the Council at midnight, but work had delayed him overlong. Three hours overlong.

"Merlin's balls," Percy cursed under his breath. "She won't have waited."

"Oh, but she did. You got some damn explainin' to do, Weatherby," a gruff female voice said behind him, and forcefully yanked him into a darkened doorway.

"Miss LaDeux, I bring bad news," Percy spoke her code name. She'd never revealed her true name, and he'd never revealed his own. They'd gone by Weatherby and LaDeux for the past year.

"Start talkin' Red," she snapped, pulling back as he used his magic to reveal the secret door to the small flat that Dumbledore had set up for these meetings. He'd been their Secret Keeper, and with his death, the secret fell to them. Not that Miss LaDeux knew that.

"Albus Dumbledore is dead," Percy rushed out as soon as he'd placed the protective wards on the flat.

"Damn. What's that do for your resistance movement?"

"It hinders them severely. He was killed by a man we assumed to be an ally," Percy said bitterly. "Severus Snape."

_"What_?" LaDeux gaped at him.

"He's since disappeared, but the Ministry now has to admit that He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named is back," Percy finished. "There should be a manhunt for him - but -"

"I know where Snape's chillin' at," LaDeux looked shaken. "G-man and Wills are cooing over him as we speak!"

_"What_?" It was Percy's turn to gape at her.

"Snape's a damned traitor, and they don't even _know_ it!"

At her words, a portrait on the wall shook itself to the floor with a loud clatter. Both of them jumped at the unexpected noise, Percy pulling his wand out and LaDeux pulling a wicked looking blade. A piece of rolled parchment fluttered itself at them.

Percy recovered faster, and he raced to retrieve it. As only one other person knew of the secret flat, he rightly assumed that it was a missive from Dumbledore. His eyes widened as he read it aloud.

__

To Faith Lehane and Percy Weasley:

Of all the members of the Order of the Phoenix, you two know most intimately the reality of being labeled 'traitor'. If this missive has revealed itself, then I have died by the hand of Severus Snape. I tell you - and

Voldemort has put a most heinous task upon the young shoulders of one Draco Malfoy. Young Mr. Malfoy is charged with killing me and opening up Hogwarts to an attack in hopes of killing Harry Potter. Mrs. Malfoy, working out of fear for her son, has extracted an Unbreakable Vow from Severus: should Draco fail to carry out his mission, Severus is to carry it out in Draco's stead.

For reasons far too convoluted to explain here, my time is already drawing to a close. Severus is doing this as an act of kindness to both I and Draco. He is putting an old man out of his misery in a dignified manner, and he is sparing the soul of a young man from having to carry out such an act.

With my death, you two have become bound as the Secret Keepers of this flat in Muggle London. My final wish - or my final mission to you two brave defenders of the light, is to extend the secret to include Draco and Severus.

War is upon us, and there are enough secrets among our side to bog us down as it is. Severus would have gone to seek aide and refuge with Rupert Giles and Willow Rosenberg. Keep them secret, keep them safe. Good journey to you along your rocky roads.

- A. Dumbledore

only_ you two - in the strictest of confidences that he has not turned his back on the mission or the rest of the Order._

"So, your name's _Percy?"_ Faith asked after he finished reading.

"Yes, _Faith_. Why LaDeux?" Percy frowned.

"Why Weatherby?" She countered.

"My first employer couldn't remember my name," Percy blushed as he gathered up the missive and watched as the flat began to expand itself to accommodate people actually living there. "He called me that."

"I'm technically the second slayer in charge," Faith shrugged. "I'm the last Chosen slayer. The rest are from the mass Calling."

"And Buffy Summers is the First Chosen," Percy nodded. "You're the one who went rogue."

"Yup. And you're the Deserter of Clan Weasley," Faith leveled her eyes on him.

"I am," He kept his eyes firmly on her.

"Guess that makes both of us the red-headed stepchildren of our organizations, don't it?"

"Hmm?"

"The damn obvious misfits, _Weatherby_," Faith grinned.

"I suppose so, _LaDeux_," Percy cleared his throat. "We need to go collect Snape and Malfoy before the Order realizes where they've slithered off to."

"Oh, joy."


	3. The Ghost at this Grave: 23 for 23

Series: 23 for 23  
Title: Seventeen: The Ghost at this Grave  
Author: Jmaria  
Rating: FR-15  
Disclaimer: I own the World Walker, Joss Whedon owns btvs, JK owns HP.  
Spoilers: Series for BtVS, HBP for HP.  
Series Summary: Twenty-three stories and crossings of worlds (read: insanity) to celebrate twenty-three years.  
Part Summary: Two misguided 'youths' meet in a graveyard.  
Words: 384  
A/N: First quote comes from the fourth into, second comes from _Time After Time_ by Cyndi Lauper. Is not connected to the previous fic prompt.

Dedication: To nsahdmdto for the fandoms and prompt.

_**23 for 23**  
Seventeen: The Ghost at this Grave_

_The World shifted slightly to the left and it had nothing to do with the copious amount of liquor involved at all._

_Sometimes you picture me, I'm walking too far ahead._

It was a particularly bad idea for them to be milling along the graveyard at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He was a wanted man, she a deceivingly weak-looking female. Had anyone approached them, they would have learned quickly that basing those assumptions on appearances was a poor use of logic. Both were known killers, after all.

"You need to get gone, S," the lean brunette glanced warily over her shoulder.

"A moment, if you don't mind," the older male sneered over his shoulder.

"Look, you wanna get caught, it ain't no skin off my nose. I'm just not in the mood for killin' these days."

"Were you ever?"

"Some days, many moons ago," she said quietly.

"He asked me for this," his head bowed as allowed his anger to show.

"How long you gonna pay for some stupid shit you did in your youth, S?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Look, we all fuck up lots. I'm not say I'm innocent, yo," Faith Lehane crossed her arms over her chest. "Bottom line? He _asked_ you for it."

"And that's supposed to clear me of my guilt."

"He was _dying_. There was no comin' back from that. He bought you and that kid as much time as he could. And he knew he could use all that guilt you got built up from Lily."

"You know -"

"Nothin'. Cause I ain't ever been in your shoes?" Faith snapped. "Bull. Shit. I've done bad things and you've done bad things, but what do you wanna bet that he's done bad things, too? Maybe even in the name of 'good'? Because sending a man - who's already wracked with guilt over the death of the girl he loved, by the way - to pull a Kevorkian on him and rip apart that man's soul seems kind of twisted to me."

"It was to save the boy."

"Which one? Was Dumbledore still saving Harry, or was it Draco this time? Or the memory of Sirius and James? When was he ever going to put the state of _your_ soul first, Sev?" Faith spat.

"He sent you to me," Snape glanced over at the far-too younger woman, his eyes gone bright at her outrage over the state of his soul. "Perhaps, that's what they call balancing the odds?"


End file.
